Surmonter Tous les Obstacles
by kellyanne
Summary: (Finished!) Satine left the Moulin Rouge when she was ten. Will she meet Christian? Will she meet the Duke? How will the story play out?
1. Starting At The Beginning

Surmonter Tous les Obstacles

By kellyanne

Disclaimer : I own nothing…yet. MUAH HA !!! _Ewan will be mine !!_

Prologue

          _All great tales have one thing in common and that is this: They all start at the beginning. Many think the beginning of a tale is the birth of a main character, but that is not always the case. In this tale, the beginning truly takes form when a ten-year-old girl realizes something crucial to her survival. It also takes form when an eleven-year-old boy begins to embrace his destiny. I am getting ahead of myself, so let us go back twelve years to 1887…_


	2. She Was Leaving

Chapter Un 

          The entire scene before her, the flashing lights, the raging music, the hard, passionate dancing, was all too much for her young mind. She ran out of the dancehall, her hands clamped over her ears to drone out the pounding music and the screams that seemed to follow her as she raced through the streets of Montmartre. She ran blindly, her sobs shaking her small body and her tears blurring her vision. She did not stop until she reached the small garret she rented with her meager wages. She was sometimes surprised that the landlord allowed her to stay there. He knew _what_ she was, but she paid him on time each month, so her motives were never questioned. 

          She wept into her hands, tears overflowing her palms and hitting her bed with the power of a waterfall. The skies seemed to pity her, for they opened up and let their own tears fall. It was not until she heard a knocking on her door that she wiped away her tears. She walked slowly and opened the door cautiously. She sighed silently in relief when she saw it was only Toulouse. She sniffled and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her coat.

          "Hello Toulouse," She said, her voice barely rising above a whisper. The short man smiled at her and patted her gently on the shoulder. She flinched away from Toulouse, remembering the way _that man _had touched her. Toulouse didn't seem to notice.

          "Anothew wough night at the Moulin?" He asked, his voice slurred from the Absinthe evident on his breath. 

          "It was horrible. H…Harold made me meet with this m…man and…and…" She burst into tears before her sentence was even finished. Toulouse brought her head onto his shoulder, which was the same height as hers, though he was a full-grown man and she was only ten. She pulled away and his brow furrowed. 

          He led her to the couch, staggering a bit from the alcohol in his blood, and sat her down. She pushed herself to the opposite edge of the couch.

          "What happened?" He asked quietly. 

          "H…Harold made me meet this m…man…he was twice my age…and he tried…to…he tried to make me… have…sleep…" She choked on her own words and Toulouse sighed.

          "I knew it would happen soonew ow latew," He mumbled.

          "What do you mean?" She asked, standing up and walking over to the window. She almost smiled at the sight of Montmartre, the streets silent and sleeping, but the music from the Moulin Rouge could be heard in the distance and the enchantment was broken.

          "Nothing."

          She nodded, not feeling strong enough to dwell on the subject.

          She was still gazing out the window when Toulouse quietly said, "I weally must be going."

          She didn't even say goodbye. She simply sat down on the windowsill and closed her eyes.

          That was a mistake.

          The second her lids had closed over her eyes, the entire night came flooding back, as vivid and painful as if she were living it over again.

          The man, blonde hair and cold, black eyes, was standing over her, touching her neck and back.

          The man was moving his hands to her stomach and then slowly lowering them.

          The man was ripping at her dress…and then Chocolat, a black man who worked at the Moulin, came into the room and punched the man into unconsciousness. 

          Her eyes snapped open and she let out a sob that echoed through the small garret.

          Standing from the windowsill, she rushed into the closet and grabbed her carpetbag. 

          She was leaving.

          She did not cry as she packed her few belongings into the bag. There was no need to cry, for she had realized that the Moulin Rouge was not her home. She was not leaving home…she was leaving hell. This _place _was not somewhere where a person could live safely, especially when the person was only ten years of age.

          She was almost smiling as she walked into the pouring rain, holding a few francs in her hand for a train ticket…

          _For the next eight years, this girl wandered from city to city, working at job after job. At the age of eighteen, she found a job in London that paid decently and gave her a home. It was not until the year 1899 that life for her became interesting, but I am, once again, getting ahead of myself. Let us stay in 1887 for a moment longer and witness anther beginning…_


	3. Write For The Rest Of His Life

Chapter Deux

          "Happy birthday!" His older brother Ryan shouted happily. 

          He smiled, looking at the present Ryan had just set in front of him. The package was of medium-size, but the thing that was making him grin was the fact that Ryan had drawn humorous cartoons on the box. His other brother, Richard, would never have done anything remotely comical. He was just like his father: rude, bossy, a work-o-holic and incredibly stupid. He and Ryan nicknamed Richard _the Duke _because he was so bossy. Duke was twenty, but he had run away that year and nobody had heard from him since.

          "Hey! Stop day-dreaming and open my present!" Ryan shouted with a chuckle.

          He acted on his brother's words and tore at the paper. In doing so, he revealed a hard, black case. He hesitated, knowing what was inside the case.

          "For God's sake, open the case!!" Ryan said with a laugh. He chuckled and popped open the clasps that held the case together. He suppressed a shocked gasp when he saw a brilliantly new Underwood typewriter.

          "I…you…bloody hell!! Where'd you get this??"

          His brother shrugged and then hit him in the shoulder, "Watch your language!" Ryan exclaimed, "I didn't have a mouth like that when I was eleven!"

          He grinned, "You're right. Your mouth was worse," The brothers laughed, but Ryan stopped abruptly with the chime of the grandfather clock. He groaned.

          "I have to go meet _father_ at the office. He wants to discuss my future at his firm." He nodded and his brother left, groaning with every step to the door. 

          It was then that he really looked at the typewriter. He grabbed a piece of paper and loaded it. His fingers hovered above the glossy keys for a moment before he finally brought them down to type.

          He had never realized how much he loved writing until that very moment, on his eleventh birthday. But he now realized it and he knew he wanted to write for the rest of his life. 


	4. Not Her Attacker

Chapter Trois

          Satine Bertram tried to smile as she packed up her belongings and walked out of the household where she had worked for four years. She did not want to let herself appear weak as her boss's wife handed her a few pounds and hailed her a carriage.

          She only let her tears flow when the carriage had begun to drive, and, even then, the tears were silent. She was trying to be strong.

          She didn't know why she tried to hide the fact that her life had been turned upside-down. She was now a twenty-two year old woman with no job, no place to call home…nothing at all. If she didn't do something to save herself, she would end up in a world she vowed never to return: the world of prostitution and falsehood.

          The thought of returning to that hell was too much for her and her tears began to pour with twice the intensity, which only made her heart ache twice as much.

          _Be strong, Satine._

          She took a deep breath and dried her face, telling the driver to stop. He nodded and pulled to the side of the cobble-stoned street. Satine grabbed her carpetbag and dropped to the ground.

          She set her lips in a false smile.

          _If she couldn't fool herself, perhaps she could at least fool others into believing everything in her life was perfect._

She walked down the sidewalk, but, with each step, the street seemed to fill with more people.

          When a man brushed against her, she shuttered and turned down an alley. She was _still_ afraid of people touching her, especially men.

          There was nobody in the alley, save herself, so Satine began to sing softly, remembering a song she had heard Toulouse sing once when she still lived in Montmartre.

_"La lune trop blême  
Pose un diadème  
Sur tes cheveux roux  
La lune trop rousse  
De gloire éclabousse  
Ton jupon plein trous  
La lune trop pâle  
Caresse l'opale  
De tes yeux blasés  
Princesse de la rue  
Soit la bienvenue  
Dans mon coeur blessé _

_The stairways up to la butte  
can make the wretched sigh  
while windmill wings  
of the Moulin  
Shelter you and I,"_

The song made the first genuine smile in months appear on her face.

She continued to sing, though she didn't really know the words.

It was because of the sound she was making that she didn't hear the person sneak up on her. Suddenly, though, she was slammed harshly against the wall of a building and a man began to rip at the jacket of her dress. She screamed and the memories flooded back as though a dam had been placed around them, but had now been opened.

_Protect yourself! _Her mind screamed.

Responding to her conscience, she kicked the man in the groin. He fell to the ground, giving her a chance to run. 

She didn't get very far.

The man soon tackled her to the ground, ripping at her dress with greedy fingers. She kicked, but his weight kept her leg from moving.

_Dear God, please, don't let it happen again._

"Why ain't ya' smilin', darling. A girl like you must get this happened to ya' ev'ry day," The man said, laughing as his hands ripped. She screamed again, but he slammed his hand down over her mouth.

"It ain't a smart thing to scream if ya' like livin'!" The man cackled, making Satine cringe. She closed her eyes, no longer able to watch, as she lay there, helpless.

To her surprise, the sound of the man grunting ceased and, soon after, his weight was gone. She dared to open her eyes and was shocked to see another man standing above her.

This man was not her attacker. The one who had been trying to rape her was on the alleyway floor, his head bleeding from the blow of a punch and his eyes closed. 

The one standing above her had dark hair and eyes that looked like the sky after a storm. He looked as though he were a fairly decent gentleman…but then again, so had the man she had encountered so many years ago.

With that thought in her mind, she pushed herself backwards, trying to put more distance between them.

"Miss, I want to help you," The man said softly. She wanted to believe him, but any trust she might have had had left her body that night twelve years ago.

"No," She whispered, her back hitting against the wall of a building.

"Miss, I swear upon my honor that I will bring you no harm," He said, taking a few steps forward.

"No," She whispered again, sobs overtaking her body. She buried her head in her hands and let the tears flow. 

She felt his hand on her back.

Much to her shock, she didn't pull away. There was something in this man's eyes and voice that made him different. She felt the need to believe him when he said he was not going to bring her any harm. 

Looking up, she saw that he was now kneeling on the ground beside her, stroking her back like a mother would with her child. 

"I do not mean to hurt you," He said, handing her a handkerchief from his pocket.

"I know," Satine whispered, drying her tears with the cloth.

The man stood and then extended his hand. She hesitated, but took it and allowed him to pull her into a standing position as well. 

"Can I bring you home?" He asked, scooping up her carpetbag, which had been knocked to the ground. She shook her head.

"I have no home."

"Then I'll bring you back to my father's home. My mother wouldn't mind having another woman in the house," The man chuckled.

"I couldn't…" She started.

"But you will," The man smiled and something inside her seemed to flip.

"I don't even know your name," She said after a moment, trying to find an escape from the conversation.

"Christian James," He said simply, as though it were common knowledge. He took her arm and began to walk out of the alleyway. It was silent for a few moments. She could feel him staring at her face, but refused to turn to meet his gaze.

"Do you have a name or will I have to invent one?" Christian asked, the corners of his eyes wrinkling in a way that showed he was holding back laughter.

"Satine…Satine Bertram," She said quietly. He smiled, a warm, joyous smile.

"Beautiful," He said, before turning so he looked ahead instead of at her.

"It was my aunt's name."

Christian shook his head, "Not the name."

          It was silent for another stretch of time. Satine was too embarrassed to speak and she knew Christian wouldn't talk unless she did. They finally reached the street, where a sleek, black carriage with two chestnut mares met them. 

          "I won't force you to come with me, you know," Christian said, turning to look at her once more. Satine felt a chill go down her spine when he touched her arm ever so softly.

          "I'll go…but I have no way to return the hospitality you are about to show. I have no home or job," 

          "We'll think of something later. For now, though, you are a guest in my household," He smiled again before helping her into the carriage.

          "Mother! I'm home!" He called, opening the front door and ushering Satine in. He watched as she cautiously walked to the center of the entrance hall and looked around in awe. He chuckled and she turned to look at him.

          "This is your house?" She asked.

          He chuckled again, "Yeah…last time I checked at least."

          "What do you mean?"

          "I'm waiting for my father to kick me out of the house. He's bound to do it eventually."

          "Why would you father do something like _that_?" Satine asked, walking closer to him.

"Because I write instead of learning his trade. Because I read poetry and Shakespeare instead of law textbooks and accounting logs. The list goes on and on, but the root of all these reasons is that he's never liked me," He laughed and realized Satine was looking at him as though he were crazy. 

          The sheer astonishment on her face made him laugh even more.

          "Why, may I ask, are you laughing, dear boy?" 

          Christian turned to see his mother coming from the parlor. He smiled and went over to give her a kiss on the cheek. 

          "Mother, I'd like you to meet Satine Bertram," He said, turning back to Satine, who was obviously nervous. 

          His mother walked over to Satine and kissed her on the cheek. His mother kissed everyone on the cheek, but it seemed to shock Satine. 

          "I'm pleased to meet you, Miss Bertram. You may call me Elizabeth, if you like," Satine simply nodded.

          "She'll be staying with us for a while, if that's alright, mother," Christian said. His mother turned to him and smiled.

          "I'll get someone to prepare a room for her."


	5. The Man From The Moulin

Chapter Quatre

          It was not until Christian was showing her to her room that she felt she had enough courage to ask him the question that was burning in her mind. The air seemed heavy as her lips parted to speak.

          "Why did your mother not question before agreeing to let me stay?" She looked at Christian, awaiting an answer. He chuckled.

          "My mom and I have this understanding. She trusts me and, in return, I don't give my father the verbal beating that he deserves. I trust you, so she trusts you. It's quite easy," He chuckled again. The sound made the air seem lighter. 

          "But how do you know you can trust me?" She asked. He stopped walking and turned her gently so she faced him. 

          "I'm a poet, Satine. I _have_ to look beyond the obvious and see into the souls of those who I write about. I see your soul…it's quite pure…beautiful," Satine hadn't realized just how close they were until she felt his breath on her lips. She looked shyly into his eyes and saw that they were filled with something that she had never seen before when someone looked at her. She closed her eyes, waiting for his lips to touch hers. She _wanted_ his lips to touch hers.

          "Am I interrupting something?" Came a voice that was unfamiliar to her. She heard Christian groan and she knew he had moved away. 

          She opened her eyes. 

In doing so, she saw a man who was obviously Christian's brother. He had lighter hair and eyes the color of chocolate. He was taller then Christian and a bit less handsome. 

          "Wonderful timing, Ryan," Christian said, sighing. The corners of Ryan's eyes wrinkled, just as Christian's had, and Satine knew he was laughing. 

          "Who, may I ask, is this, little brother?" Ryan asked. Satine froze as he came closer. He may _look_ like Christian, but she didn't feel like she could trust him like she did Christian. And yes, she did trust Christian, much to her own surprise. 

          "Satine Bertram. She's staying with us for a while," Christian said simply. His tone was lighter and Satine felt like the brothers were sharing a joke silently. They both chuckled and Ryan approached her, extending his hand.

          "Ryan James. It's a pleasure to meet you," Satine exhaled the breath she was holding and pumped his hand. 

It was cold.

Cold like _his_ hands had been. Cold like the touch of the man in the alley. 

She shivered and, without realizing it, let out a sob. 

She sank to the ground and let her pain flow down her cheeks.

What was wrong with her? Christian asked himself as Satine let out a quiet sob. His eyes widened as she sank to the floor, tears flowing like a river from her eyes. He stooped down so he was level with her face.

"Satine, what's wrong?" He asked, his voice shaking. She had been fine only a second ago. 

"He…I…" She choked out before a new set of tears erupted from her eyes.

"Christian, what happened to her?" Ryan asked as he squatted beside him. Satine backed herself up against a wall.

"Shh…Satine. Tell me what's the matter," He whispered, ignoring his brother's question. She looked tearfully into his eyes, her small form shaking. 

"He tried to rape me," She whispered. 

Suddenly Christian understood. She was still shaken from the incident in the alleyway.

He moved closer and tried to bring her into an embrace, but she pushed farther away. 

His brow furrowing, he whispered, "It's ok, Satine. The man from the alley won't hurt you. You're safe here."

Satine stood up abruptly, tears flying down her face like children on sleds down a snow-covered hill. 

"NOT HIM!! Not him! The man…from the Moulin…when I was ten!!" She lowered her voice and dropped to the floor again.

"What man?"

"The _Moulin Rouge_?"

Both he and Ryan had spoken at the same time and, if the scene hadn't been so serious, they would have laughed. 

Satine wasn't laughing…she was crying again, her sobs filling the hallway. 

Before she could answer, his mother came up the stairs. She looked at the scene before her and walked so she was above Satine.

"Satine, let me show you to your room, hmm? How does that sound?" Elizabeth James gently took Satine's arm and lifted her from the ground. 

          Both he and Ryan looked on as though they didn't exist. They were waiting for their mother to yell at them, though they hadn't done anything. When Satine was out of sight, the two turned to look quizzically at each other.

          What had they done to make Satine react this way??


	6. Crazy Boy

Chapter Cinq

          Christian sighed as he walked along the path that led to the stream. When he got there, his surroundings didn't even lift his spirits. 

          The beautiful trees, the golden rays of light coming through the canopy of leaves…even the sound of the stream flowing didn't cheer him up. The thing that really bothered him, though, was the fact that he had only met Satine _that day_. How was it possible to care so deeply for someone who had _just_ entered your life?

          He sighed again. 

He sat at the edge of the stream, rolling up the legs of his trousers and throwing off his shoes. He dropped his feet into the cool water and let them dangle there, closing his eyes. The water felt good against his skin and he relished in the feel of it. 

The contentment was short lived. With his eyes closed, he saw her sobbing on the floor, blurting out words that made no sense to him.

That was what was bothering him! He wanted it to make sense, but she wouldn't open up.

He laughed openly, realizing that if he went to a physiatrist, they'd probably lock him up in a mental hospital. He was crazy!! Why on earth would someone open up to someone like _him_? He was too outspoken and he never hid his emotions…both facts giving his father more reasons to hate him.

A surge of anger rippled through his body. He didn't want to be thinking about his father, especially not when he had something as great as this on his mind. 

He had a woman, who had obviously been abused before, in his house and he had to do something to help her! Thinking about the bastard he called a father was only going to cloud up his mind and make him do something irrational.

Standing, Christian closed his eyes and waited for the anger to subside. He always did that when he and his father got into a fight. If he hadn't learned to control his temper, he would have been disowned _years_ ago. 

He nodded as he opened his eyes, knowing that he was now thinking clearly. He also knew what he was going to do, and that was this: 

Make Satine tell him what was wrong.

_I realize that you have not heard from me in some time, but do not think, for a moment, that I have left this tale. It just has not been necessary, until this moment, to interject. I feel it is important for anyone reading this to know a bit about Christian's father. _

_He goes by the name of Thomas Oliver James. His father used to abuse him, both mentally and physically. At the fresh age of thirteen, he finally stood up for himself. When his father came to beat him that night, he raised a gun and pulled the trigger. The courts looked at it as self defense and he was not sent to jail._

_It did not take Thomas James long to become bitter as his late father had been._

_After he married, Thomas was given a son, whom he named Richard. This son grew up to be the picture of what a good son should be like, in Thomas's eyes. Richard followed in his father's footsteps and studied law. It was all too disappointing when Richard ran away from home…at least to Thomas._

_          His second son, Ryan, was not like Richard in many ways. He did study law, though, so Thomas approved of him._

_Then came his last son, Christian. Even before Christian was born, Thomas hated him. _

_He had been an accident, the product of a night of intimacy with his wife while he was under the influence of alcohol._

_As this last son grew, he showed no signs of defiance. He was raised as his other brothers had been and he seemed content with that life. _

_But then he started to become interested in literature. The boy threw out any ideas of law and, instead, replaced them with poetry and novels. He turned away from the path Thomas had laid out for all of his sons and Thomas grew to hate him more. _

_If this has not helped you, then I am sorry. It is crucial, though, for you to understand the relationship between father and son, though. Keep this knowledge in mind as you read further…   _    


	7. The One She Could Trust

Chapter Six

          She had been in the house for a week. Ever since that first afternoon, she had locked herself in her bedroom, not leaving and rarely accepting food. 

Everyone in this house was like the man from the Moulin. The maids…the butlers…everyone! 

          They all looked at her like she was a prostitute…a whore. None of them said it, but she knew it was what they were thinking. They were the reason she stayed locked up, serving her own condemnation of solitude.

          "I want to leave," She whispered to herself as she settled into the window seat in her room. She gazed out the window, letting her eyes fall on the gardens and fountains that made up the property of the James Manor. 

          She sighed, knowing that if she left, she'd have nowhere to go. She lifted her eyes from the gardens when she heard a tapping on her door. 

          "Satine…it's Christian. May I come in?"

          She hesitated. He was the only one in the household with whom she could trust…that she _did_ trust.

          She opened the door.

          The first thing she saw were his eyes, stormy and beautiful.

          Then she noticed his face was twisted with worry. He did not wear a smile. His fists were clenched nervously at his sides.

          "May I come in?" He asked, entering after she nodded in approval. He sat down on the window seat that she had just vacated and motioned for her to join him.

          She hesitated, not knowing if she really wanted to be that close to someone.

          Finally, she sat.

          "You've been on my mind since you…um…in the hallway…when you first arrived," Christian said, a bit uneasily, as his voice did tell. 

          "I'm sorry about that. I was just shaken from…what happened in the… in the alley that morning," She lied, not wanting to discuss the true reason behind her collapse.

          "I know you're lying," Christian said, his gaze leaving her's and turning to the window.

          "I am not!" She said, a bit too loudly for her words to seem sincere.

          "You said something about a man at the Moulin. I assume you meant the Moulin Rouge. The Moulin Rouge is in France and you are _from_ France, which I realized because of your accent. Something happened there and I want to know…I want to help you," His eyes were penetrating hers. 

          "It was nothing…"She started, rising from her seat at the window, "I was ten years old and something happened and I left," She finished after taking a deep breath. She was fighting tears.

          "That 'something' that happened effected you…it made you collapse. I need to know about it in order to help you."

          "I don't need your help!" She said loudly, tears splashing down her cheeks. He stood and she fell into his open arms, sobbing into his strong shoulder.  

          "It…it was…twelve years ago. I…worked…at the…Moulin Rouge…" She managed to blurt out before her sobs became too strong for any words to be understandable.

          "Shh…it's alright, Satine. You were a little girl…you didn't know the difference between right and wrong," Christian whispered, stroking her back soothingly. 

          "I…I know…but he…just…didn't care that I…was…only ten…" She stuttered, her hands gripping the back of Christian's shirt tightly.

          "What man? Tell me about him," Christian whispered. She sucked in breath just remembering that man's face.

          "He had light hair…and black eyes…like two pieces of coal…and he had cold hands…like ice…"

          "Did you know him? Do you have his name?" She shook her head no.

          "You have to forget about him…make way for happier memories,"

          "I'm afraid I won't…be able to," She whispered, pulling back so she looked into Christian's eyes. 

          "I'll help you," He said, smiling.

          "I don't think you can."

          "May I prove you wrong?" He asked, his eyes glittering.

          "How will you do that?" She asked curiously, wiping away tears.

          "Like this," He whispered, before bringing his lips to hers. Her body tingled with warmth that she hadn't felt for years. She felt alive with his lips moving tenderly over hers.

          When he pulled back, the warmth did not leave her.

          "Have I proven you wrong?" He asked, tenderly stroking her cheek. She nodded, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. _He _had touched her cheek like that.

          _Christian is not that man!!_ Her mind screamed. She smiled and Christian took her lips again.

          He left Satine's room only minutes later, fearing that he'd take advantage of her willfulness. She was too vulnerable and he knew it. 

          He let himself smile, feeling triumphant. He had managed to persuade her to reveal her innermost secrets, secrets that had clearly been tormenting her for years. 

          He was also smiling because he had kissed her…and she had kissed back. Ryan would probably laugh if he knew how his younger brother was reacting to a simple kiss. But to Christian, it had been more then a kiss. He had poured out feelings he did not know he had had through a connection of lips. His heart was still pounding and he wanted to ask Satine if her's was as well, but going back to her room would be too tempting. He was only human.

          He was so deep in thought that he didn't realize Ryan was in the hallway until he had actually hit into him.

          "I always knew you were blind," Ryan said, chuckling as he helped Christian up from the ground. 

          "Oh…sorry," He mumbled, breathing deeply. The air smelled like the perfume Satine had been wearing.

          "What's wrong with you?" Ryan asked. Christian did now hear him, though, because he was, once again, thinking of Satine.

          "Christian. Christian! CHRISTIAN!!" Ryan yelled, hitting his brother across the head. 

          "What?? I'm not allowed to think anymore without getting attacked?" He said defensively. His brother eyed him suspiciously, but walked passed him, continuing down the hallway to the stairs. 

          "Dinner's ready, by the way!" Ryan called as he descended down the staircase. 

          Christian sighed and walked to his room to change. His clothes were muddy; he had been by the stream again. He seemed to be going there a lot. He threw his dirty shirt aside and pulled on a fresh pair of trousers. 

          When he heard a knocking on his door, he assumed it was Ryan again. He didn't bother putting on a shirt…it was his brother, after all.

          It was not _his_ brother.

          When the door opened, it probably would have been impossible to tell who was more shocked: him or Satine. 

          "O…Oh…I'm sorry…I just…your mother…dinner?" She stuttered. He choked back laughter because she was clearly disoriented and laughing would have made her angry. It was _very_ hard not to laugh.

          "Tell my mother that I'll be right down," He said, not able to stop a smile from crossing his face. Her features were a bit less distorted once he smiled. 

          "Alright," She said, but she didn't move away from the door.

          "I could always join you as is," Christian said, chuckling and running a hand through his hair.

          "No…I think your mother would prefer you there with a shirt on," Satine said, laughing.

          Christian resisted the urge to ask, "But would you?" and, instead, smiled and closed the door.

          Dinner was quiet that night, as it always was when his father was away on business. Thomas James hadn't been home for two weeks, but he was due back tomorrow. 

          Christian was glad his father was away. The house was always more pleasant when he was gone.

          "I'm glad you could join us, Satine," His mother said when everyone was seated. Satine blushed and thanked Elizabeth. 

          "Christian, I bought one of those paintings that you wanted," Ryan said, smiling, "It's in the study."

          "One of Toulouse-Lautrec's paintings!" He said, poorly hiding the excitement in his voice. Ryan nodded.

          "I remember him," Satine said quietly, pushing food around her plate with her fork. 

          "Y…you knew Toulouse-Lautrec??" Both he and Ryan exclaimed.

          "Yes…he lived in a garret above the one I had when I worked…when I lived in Montmartre," She had stuttered on her words and Christian knew what she had meant to say: _When I had worked at the Moulin Rouge_.

          "A garret?? How very Bohemian!" Elizabeth exclaimed, laughing. 

          "Montmartre?" Ryan asked. Satine nodded slowly; clearly unsure of where he was going to take the conversation, "Isn't that where the Moulin Rouge is?"

          Christian was sitting beside Satine, so he saw her body freeze up at the last two words his brother uttered.

          "I believe it is, Ryan…right, Christian?" Elizabeth said, her brow furrowing as she tried to remember the geography of France.

          "Yes, it is mother. The Moulin Rouge is in Montmartre," He said quietly, squeezing Satine's hand under the table. 

          "Why is _my_ family discussing a village of sin at _my_ dinner table??"

          They all turned in their chairs and Christian felt anger swell within him.

          Daddy was home.


	8. Follow The Night

Chapter Sept

          Satine felt a chill run up her spine when she saw the man in the doorway. The man's voice was sending ice through the air, but his appearance was what was frightening her. He had small, black eyes and gray hair that showed signs of being blonde once. His nose was crooked, as though it had been broken, and his back was curved into a small hump. The darkness of this man made Satine want to jump up from her chair and run away from the house as quickly as she could.

          Christian must have sensed her anxiety, for her took her hand underneath the table again and squeezed it. 

          "Who's that??" The man asked, his words making more chills attack Satine. She shivered, but only Christian seemed to notice.

          "This is a friend of mine, father. Satine Bertram. She's staying with us for a while," Christian said, his chin raised up in defiance. Satine could tell that the relationship between father and son was not a good one. 

          "She looks like a prostitute! Why, in God's name, is there a whore in my household??" Mr. James bellowed. Elizabeth gasped, as did Satine. 

          "Thomas!!" Elizabeth exclaimed.

          "Answer my question, boy!" Thomas hollered at Christian. 

          Christian gently let go of Satine's hand and stood, walking over to his father in the doorway.

          "Go to hell, father," He said, loud enough for the others in the room to hear. 

          Satine gasped, not because he had cursed, but because he was standing up for her.

          "Did you hear that Elizabeth?? Your wonderful, extraordinarily talented son is cursing at his own father! What have you got to say about that, hmm??" 

          Elizabeth stood and walked to stand beside Christian, "I'd say you taught him those words, so it's your fault."

          Thomas glared at his wife and said, loudly enough so that Satine could hear, to Christian, " You're lucky your mother is here to protect you. The second she's gone, you and that whore are out of my house!" 

          After his father had stormed out of the dining room, dinner had gone back to normal…at least to some degree. It was absolutely silent, save the sound of forks hitting against plates. Christian wanted to ask Satine if she was all right, but breaking the silence probably wouldn't have been for the best. 

          When the final course was cleared away, Christian rose from his chair and walked to his study. 

          He _had_ to write. He felt as though he was going insane! He had Satine to worry about, which was not a bad thing because he had feelings for her, but to throw his father into the mix! Only disaster could come from the combination. 

          He sat at his typewriter and stared at the keys that were dusty and dull from years of use. 

          "Alright, Christian. You wanted to write, so write!" He said to himself, a chuckle rising from his throat. 

Talking to himself proved that he had flipped his lid.

He went back to gazing at the keys and, finally, he loaded in a piece of paper into the machine. 

_Now what could he write about??  _

He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the house. His mother and father were yelling down the hall. Ryan was painting, judging by the lack of sound coming from his room across the hall. 

Neither of the two would make good poems.

Then he heard it…the voice of an angel floating through the hallway outside. He knew what to write about. 

_"How wonderful life is now you're in the world,"_ He sang.

"You can't leave," She whispered to herself as she walked up the stairs after dinner had ended. Feeling tears, she did what she always did when she was emotional: she sang.

_"I follow the night_

_Can't stand the light_

_When will I begin to live again?_

_One day I'll fly away!_

_Leave all this to yesterday..._

_What more could your love do for me?_

_When will love be through with me?_

_Why live life from dream to dream _

_And dread the day when dreaming ends?"_

She sighed, knowing that the song had been written for her. It had been made to mock her…so the entire world would know that her life had no meaning. That she was a failure!

_"How wonderful life is now you're in the world."_

Her brow furrowed, wondering where the other source of singing had come from. She pushed her lips together, hoping that the owner of the voice would sing again. 

_"Never knew I could feel like this." _

The voice was coming from the room at the top of the staircase. She walked quickly to the door, and, in listening, heard the sound of keys clicking down.

She knocked on the door. Christian answered it only moments after she had knocked.

"W…were you singing just now?" She asked, her voice not cooperating with her brain. _Why did she always do this around him?_

"Maybe, why?" He asked, his eyed glittering. He was holding back laughter!

"I…just…well…I was walking by and heard singing. If it was you… well…you have a wonderful voice."

He smiled and took her hand, leading her into his study.

Books upon books lined the walls of the room and everything was covered in a thin layer of dust. Old couched and chairs were placed beside a large window. In the middle of the room was a table, and on it was a typewriter, which had a sheet of paper loaded in it. 

"I was writing a song…or a poem. I'm not quite sure which one its going to be yet," He laughed and plopped himself down on one of the couches. 

Satine wasn't really listening to him. She was too busy looking around the room. There was an entire table covered in thick piles of papers, all of them covered in type or in handwriting.

"Did you write all of those?" She asked, tearing her eyes from the table to look at Christian.

"Um…yeah…I did," Christian replied, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. 

"Would it be alright if I read something of yours?" She asked, turning her gaze to the large window.

"Um…I…I guess," He stuttered, rising from the couch and walking to the table. Satine watched nervously as he ruffled through the large stacks of paper. Finally, he withdrew a thick manuscript. 

"Here…um…it's the first thing I wrote when I got my typewriter. That was…" He looked up at the ceiling, obviously trying to find an answer, "When I was eleven."

She took the manuscript and looked down at the title page:

Children Of The Revolution

By Christian James

          "Thank you," She said taking a step closer to him.

          She didn't mean to get as close as she did. But before she knew it, she felt his chest rising and falling against hers. She breathed deeply and took in the smell of coffee and earth. Christian's hand tipped her chin up so that her eyes were gazing into his. She fell into the dark, gray silk pools and he smiled.

          Seconds later, she had pressed her lips to his, indulging in the warmth that the connection gave her. 

          Christian pulled away before either had the chance to deepen the kiss. 

          "We shouldn't," He said breathlessly, stroking her cheek.

          "Oh…yes, of course. You're right," She said, stepping backwards so she was out of his arms.

          "No, Satine! It's not…"

          "You don't need to explain, Christian. I understand…I'm sorry I kissed you," She turned to leave but Christian's hand gripped her arm and spun her around.

          "Satine, it's not that I don't want to. God, if I didn't know what the consequences could be, I'd let this go on all evening. But that's the thing…there are consequences. My father is right down the hall. If he walked in…" Satine turned away, refusing to look at him. She heard him groan and then he spun her around again. With no hesitation at all, he took her lips. Satine moaned quietly into his mouth, loving the feeling he was giving her. They didn't part until the voice of Thomas James filled the room.

          "And I thought my son would be smart enough to leave the house before fooling around with his whore."


	9. Respect Everyone, Fear No One

A/N- Short chapter, but I didn't have much time. Two things to say : 

#1- Answering the question from one of my reviews, no, Thomas James was not the person who raped Satine

and…#2- I'm looking for a person to co-write a M/R fic with me. Email me if ur interested

Chapter Huit

          Christian sat down in the chair across from his father, glaring at him with hatred that he didn't know he had. His eyes watered from staring, but he did not dare break the connection between their eyes. He knew damn well that his father would see him as a coward if he blinked. 

          His father rose and stood, turning his back to Christian. Christian shook his head in disgust, hating his father and wishing the fireplace that Thomas stood before would open up and swallow him. 

          He turned to the door of the study, hearing soft sobs from a room nearby. Satine was crying and it was his father's fault!

          "What did you think you were going to do in my house, boy?" Thomas asked curtly, not even bothering to look at his son.

          Christian clenched his jaw, trying to hold back the string of curse words he wanted to yell at the pathetic excuse for a man that he called his father.

          "Answer ME, boy!" Thomas bellowed.

          "What do you care what I was doing? You haven't given a damn for the first twenty-three years of my life! Why start now??" Christian said, challenging his father with his eyes.

          "You think that it is alright to commit a sin??"

          "I _wasn't_ committing any sins, father! I was kissing a woman that I care a great deal about and trust completely!"

          "How can you care for someone you just meant? And how can you trust her?? For all you know, she could be just another gold-digging whore!"

          "_Don't call her a whore!_" Christian said as calmly as he could through gritted teeth. He balled his fists, inadvertently cracking his knuckles several times. 

          "I'll call her whatever I want to while she resides _in my home_! Now answer my question!"

          "I trust her because I live by a creed, father! Trust everyone, Fear No one!" 

          "Live by a creed, die by a creed!" Thomas said, shooting Christian a smug smile that told him that his father thought he'd won. 

          "Only cowards fear, father," Christian said, his words firm and assertive.

          "You Dare To Call Me A Coward??"

          "I'm only being truthful, father. Isn't lying a sin?" He smiled and left the study, walking straight to the room that was filled with sobs. 

          He didn't bother knocking before entering the room and gathering a crying Satine in his arms, kissing her like it was his last day alive.

Another A/N- Argh!! Don't you hate Thomas James?????? Review if you love me, lol.


	10. Love, Beauty and An Unexpected Visitor

Chapter Neuf

          Christian woke up in the middle of the night, at first not knowing where he was. He was in the bedroom that his mother had called the Red Room, due to its red and burgundy tones, but he didn't understand why. He felt a movement beside him and turned on his side, his eyes meeting the pale, beautiful face of Satine. Her dark red curls shown in the moonlight that illuminated her skin.

          She was asleep.

          Christian wished he could freeze this moment, for Satine looked unbelievably beautiful, but he realized something that made him sit straight up in the bed…_the bed_!!

          He remembered, now, what had happened after he walked out of his study, where his father had been interrogating him. He had come straight to Satine's room…this room, and kissed her, pouring the contents of his soul into her lips. He had closed the door and locked it behind him. He had taken his lips away from Satine's to look into her eyes. They were a piercing blue-green, like that of seawater after a rough storm and they were staring at him with uncertainty.

          He had laughed quietly and laid her gently on the red velvet quilt that covered the bed. He had lain down beside her; gazed into those oceanic eyes and he kissed her fingertips.

          "I know what has happened to you in the past is making you frightened, so I'm not going to do anything. It is your choice to kiss me again," He had whispered, the words floating through the air like a gentle breeze. Satine had smiled before kissing him with such power, such passion, that he had actually lost his breath. 

          He remembered the love they had shared and the gentle caresses they had exchanged. He could hear Satine moaning his name into his lips as they reached a point of ecstasy together.

          He smiled and resisted the urge to kiss her. He didn't want to wake his angel from her dreams. Instead, he rose silently from the bed and put his discarded clothes back on. He went to the desk at the far side of the room and, turning on a dim light, scribbled a note explaining why he was not beside her. He placed it on the pillow that he had slept on and then he silently left the room.

          He was throbbing with energy, so he did not go to his bedroom. He went to his study instead and sat at his typewriter, gazing at the first few lines of the paper loaded in the machine.

          Thinking of Satine, he began to type, the words pouring, not from his mind, but from his heart. 

          The sun was shining brightly through the window in her room when she awoke. It took her a while to realize that Christian was not at her side. 

          She wiped the sleep from her eyes and pulled the velvet bedspread up to cover her body. Yawning, she realized that there was a note on the pillow beside her. 

          She picked it up and smelt the wonderful combination of coffee and earth that scented the paper. She knew immediately that it was from Christian.

_'Dearest Satine,' _

_          'I'm sorry that I wasn't there when you woke up, but I couldn't risk staying. I wanted nothing more then to watch the sun rise in your hair, but to stay would mean to risk getting caught. I know that both my brother and mother wouldn't mind…hell, they'd probably give us their blessings, but my father would have my head. I know that he'd also forbid me from seeing you, and that price is one I couldn't live with._

_'I'm watching you sleep right now, wondering what you are dreaming of. Enjoy your dreams, sweet angel, and when you wake, meet me in my study. There is something I need to tell you. Until later, Christian.'_

She smiled and folded the note back up, bringing the paper to her lips. She dressed as quickly as possible, having to find a new corset to wear. She laughed, remembering how she had learned of Christian's impatience for clothing. 

After she was fully clothed, she made her bed and walked out of the room. She smiled at Ryan as she passed him in the hall, which seemed to surprise him. His jaw was hanging down to the carpeted floor and Satine chuckled.

When she reached Christian's study, she could hear the soft sound of snoring coming from the room. She smiled and opened the door, moving inside the room before locking the door behind her. 

          Christian was sitting at the desk, his head resting beside his typewriter. He was snoring quietly, his dark hair falling over his closed eyes. Satine smiled and kissed him gently on the forehead. He stirred and gazed at her with sleep-filled eyes, smiling.

          "You wanted to tell me something?" She whispered, her body warming as Christian took her hand and kissed it. 

          "Yeah…I…um," Christian stood, his brow furrowing as a battle raged inside his eyes. He was trying to find the words to voice something…something that was important.

          "Christian?" She asked softly, touching his arm. He pulled gently away walking to the window. She didn't follow, but stared at her back.

          "_Never knew I could feel like this,_" He sang, his shoulder relaxing. She let her jaw drop; feeling like Ryan must have when he saw her in the hallway. Christian kept his face to the window, but she saw his profile and the corners of his eye were crinkling. He saw smiling.

"_Like I've never seen the sky before  
Want to vanish inside your kiss  
Every day I love you more and more  
Listen to my heart, can you hear it sing  
Telling me to give you everything  
Seasons may change, winter to spring  
But I love you until the end of time._

_Come what may  
Come what may  
I will love you until my dying day  
  
Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place  
Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace  
Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste  
It all revolves around you  
And there's no mountain too high  
No river too wide  
Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side  
Storm clouds may gather  
And stars may collide  
But I love you until the end of time_,"

She felt tears glistening in her eyes when Christian turned back around.

"Do you like it? The song's for you," He smiled, and pulled her against his chest. She laughed, salty tears splashing down her cheeks. Christian reached up and wiped them away with his thumb.

"Do you mean it?" She whispered tearfully. He tipped her chin up and their eyes met. His were filled with an emotion that she couldn't name.

"Satine, I'm a poet. When I write, its because I feel something in here," He said, tapping his hand over his heart, "So, yes, I meant it. Every single word. But I mean nothing as much as I mean this: I love you."

"I love you, too," She whispered, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. Christian laughed, lifting her off the ground and spinning her. He kissed her ardently and, after he let her down, they just stood, staring into each other's eyes. Satine was happy for the first time in a very long time.

She was in love and the feeling was better then anything she had ever imagined. 

It was around noon when Christian emerged from his study, hands locked with those of his lover.

They had sat beside the fireplace for hours, doing nothing except indulge in the feeling of being close to someone special, someone important to him. 

Around ten o'clock, the family had left the house. His father had received an urgent letter from a client and his brother and mother were seeing him to the train station. Christian had refused to go, not feeling the least bit saddened by his father's leaving. In fact, he was glad he was gone. 

They were leaving the refuse in the study because Satine was complaining of hunger. He agreed with her, his own stomach roaring like a starving lion.

It was the cook's day off, it being Sunday, but Satine seemed to like being able to cook. Actually, she seemed delighted to be in a kitchen, cooking a meal. He watched her, love blossoming in his throat, and then the doorbell rang.

"I'll be right back, love," He said, standing and walking into the entrance hall. 

He opened the front door; at first thinking the man before him was Ryan. But the man walked into the light and Christian saw blonde hair and bottomless black pits for eyes. He had a greasy mustache and skin pasty and sallow. 

"Richard?" 


	11. Ghosts From The Past

Chapter Dix

          Satine had been chopping vegetables when she realized Christian had been gone for a long time. She put down the chef's knife she was cutting with and walked slowly towards the entrance hall. Murmured voices meet her as she stepped into the room. Both Christian and another man had their backs turned away from her.

          "Why are you here?" Christian whispered, the words barely reaching her. 

          "What? No hug for your older brother?" Came the voice of the second man. The man snorted, the sound greasy and revolting, like his yellow hair. The voice was familiar, but she didn't know from where she'd heard it. 

          _He was probably a friend of one of her previous employers, _she told herself.

          "_Why are you here_?" Christian repeated, and she saw the muscles in his back tense, even through his shirt. 

          "I'm here because I thought it'd be nice to come home," The man said, his nasal voice becoming as revolting as the rest of him. She shivered, making a soft noise inadvertently. 

          Christian turned and smiled when she saw her. She smiled back and stepped forward, almost crossing the room, before the other man turned around.

          She felt dizzy and suddenly knew she'd be sick. Greasy blonde hair, cold, black eyes…

          _It was him._

          "What's the matter?" He asked as Satine turned paler then usual. She opened her mouth, tears welling in her eyes, but no words escaped her lips. He felt his brow furrow. 

          "Darling?" He muttered, stepping closer. Richard followed him closer to Satine.  

          She backed farther away. 

          He took her hand and saw tears flowing down her cheeks. Her eyes were boring into his, as though she was trying to tell him something, but he didn't understand.

          "Is the lady alright?" Richard asked, his voice making Christian want to punch him in the face. 

          Satine whimpered quietly, pulling her hands from his, and then she ran. 

          It took him a while to run after her. Richard didn't follow, much to his relief. Something about him frightened Satine.

          It took him a few minutes before he realized where she was.

          He could hear her sobs before he actually saw her, and he knew she was in the garden.

          When he found her, she was sitting in a bed of roses, her tears pouring out hard and watering the flowers.

          "Satine?" He asked slowly, his voice low so he wouldn't frighten her. 

          Upon hearing his voice, she looked up, her eyes swimming in a sea of salty tears.

          "He's here," She whispered. 

          He took a seat by her side, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. He smiled when she buried her face in his shirt. At least she wasn't afraid of him.

          "I know my brother's here, darling," He whispered, kissing the top of Satine's head.

          "_He's_ here," She sobbed, "_He's the one_!" 

          He inhaled deeply, trying to understand what his lover was saying. Did she really believe that Richard had tried to rape her?? Yes, his brother was a slimy, despicable man, much like his father, but to attack and attempt to rape a little girl…was it possible?

          He brought Satine back to her room before he went searching for his brother.

          "Richard!!" He yelled, his voice echoing through the hallway. His brother popped his head out of the door opening into the library.

          "What?" He asked, glaring at Christian. He bit down on his tongue so he wouldn't curse. 

          "Can I speak with you?" He asked slowly.

          "I suppose," Richard said, his greasy voice making him want to throw up.

          He walked into the library and waited for his brother to look at him.

          "Where have you been for the past twelve years?" He asked sharply, his anger building as his brother looked at him like he was a mere child.

          "America."

          "And you haven't been to the Moulin Rouge??"

          "The Moulin Rouge…why would I go there, brother?" Richard asked reticently. 

          "When Sa…Miss Bertram was in France, a man tried to rape her. She thinks that man is you," He said slowly, watching his brother's face for any sign that it was him who had done this.

          "Well…I believe I should be offended. Accusing me of raping a young girl!!" Richard stormed out of the library and, a moment later, he heard the front door slam.

          He sat down on a chair and sighed. Suddenly, he realized something…

          _He never told Richard that Satine had been a little girl._


	12. Forever and a Day

Chapter Onze

          She hadn't stopped weeping. It had been over an hour since she first saw _him _and tears were still forming in her eyes. Her face buried in a pillow that smelled like Christian, she let the aroma of coffee take over her senses. Sadly, even that didn't stop the tears.

          It was strange that last night, she could barely breathe because of ecstasy, but now she couldn't breath because of sheer misery.

          "Satine."

          She looked up and saw Christian; his brow furrowed and features dark.

          "Hi," She whispered, wiping away her tears. Christian took a seat beside her and kissed her hand.

          "Don't worry, darling. He'll never hurt you. I'll always be there."

          "Forever?" She asked. Christian's features lightened and he nodded.

          "Forever and a day," He whispered, wrapping her in his arms.

          She felt safe.

          "You're my everything Christian," She sighed into his shoulder.

          He squeezed her arm and kissed the top of her head. And it was at that moment that she knew. With Christian at her side, she would be all right, through good times and through bad.

          Forever and a Day. 


	13. In The Study

Chapter Douze 

          _When Ryan and Elizabeth arrived home, they were surprised to see Richard, who returned two hours after storming out. Neither were particularly thrilled to see Richard but Thomas was. After he got word of his son's return, he caught the first train back to London, forgetting all about his client. Thomas decided to throw a party in honor of Richard's return. Invitations were sent out and a date was sent. _

_          The band was raging in the ballroom the night of the party. And this brings us to the present point of our tale…_

          Christian was getting a glass of wine when he saw her coming down the staircase. The sight of her took his breath away and he almost dropped his wine. 

          Setting the glass down, he walked as quickly as he could to Satine. She smiled when she saw him.

          "You look…amazing," He said breathlessly. Satine laughed and look his arm.

          "You don't look so bad yourself," She whispered into his ear. He chuckled, putting his other hand in his pocket. In doing so, he felt the box and he smiled. Another hour or so and he'd ask her. 

          "Want to dance?" He asked, withdrawing his hand from his pocket. Satine grinned and took his hand.

          The two twirled across the dance floor, but Christian didn't see anyone else in the room. His gaze was focused solely on Satine. He smiled, knowing that this amazing woman loved her.

          When the song was over, he pulled her onto the balcony.

          "Satine, I wanted to ask you something…but not here," He said quietly, taking her hands in his. There were too many people around. 

          "Alright," Satine said, smiling.

          "Meet me in my study in about ten minutes," He whispered before leading her back into the ballroom. He kissed her cheek before walking upstairs. He wanted to get everything right.

          Satine waited ten minutes, like Christian had said, before walking upstairs to his study. He wasn't there when she arrived so she took a seat in front of the fire. It was blazing; it's flames casting shadows across the walls. 

          She smiled, remembering how they had made love in front of that fireplace. 

          About five minutes later, she heard the door open. She knew it was Christian, so she didn't bother to turn around.

          "Hello, darling," She said softly, her eyes still on the fireplace.

          "I'm glad you can use such an endearment on me."

          She gasped, spinning around in the chair. It wasn't Christian.

          "R…Richard," She stuttered, jumping out of the chair. Richard grinned, making her shiver, and stepped forward. He was standing in front of her after a moment. 

          "I've wanted to get you alone for sometime…years…twelve, to be exact," He whispered in her ear, making her want to cry. Before she could react, he pulled her face to his and pressed his lips to hers.

 She pulled away, tears flowing down her cheeks. Richard laughed and looked over her shoulder. 

          "Oh, hello, Christian."

          Satine spun around and gasped. Sure enough, Christian was standing in the doorway and, judging by the look on his face, he had seen Richard kiss her.

          "Christian…I…"

          He glared, shooting daggers at her with his eyes, "Get the hell away from me…whore."


	14. Because I Love You!

Chapter Treize

          Satine stared at the doorway long after Christian had left. His words didn't register until Richard laughed, repeating Christian's words. Richard left, then, without a word.

          She sunk back into the chair and let the painful tears explode down her cheeks. This was _her_ fault. If she had never been at the Moulin Rouge, then none of this would have happened. 

No Pain. 

No Richard. 

No…Christian. 

The last thought shocked her. He was the best thing that had ever happened to her, but she didn't deserve him. He was better off without her so it was for the best that he was angry. He most likely would never want to speak to her again. 

The thought of having to live life without him was horrible. Her tears became uncontrollable.

_She needed him._

"Satine, what's the matter?"

She turned around and saw Ryan. She almost smiled; he and she had become good friends since she arrived. He knew what had happened to her, though he didn't know it had been with his very own older brother. 

"I…I," She couldn't get the words out. She had betrayed Christian and she couldn't tell Ryan. The pain of loosing her first love was enough; she couldn't loose her friend.

Ryan smiled sadly at her and pulled her out of the chair. She fell into his arms, sobbing into the shoulder of his tuxedo coat. 

When she was calm enough to speak, she pulled away from Ryan.

"What happened?" He repeated softly. She sniffled and fell back into her chair.

"He…he told me to meet him here…I came and…it was Richard. He…um…he kissed me…and Christian saw…HE SAW!" Her tears came back and she sobbed into her hands. She soon felt Ryan's hand on her shoulder.

"Shh…it's alright. My brother is madly in love with you, Satine. You just need to get the truth through his thick, naïve skull."

She looked up from her hands, her vision blurred with tears. The corners of Ryan's eyes were crinkled…he was laughing.

She smiled, wiping away the tears that seemed like acid burning through her cheeks. 

"My stupid, little brother is at the creek that lies past the gardens. 

"How do you know?" She asked, standing from the chair.

"The idiot always goes there when he thinks about you."

He knew she was coming before he actually heard her footsteps. He sighed and threw another rock into the stream. It skipped twice and then sunk. It reminded him of the relationship between he and Satine. Things were great for a while, but then everything just sunk.

He sighed again.

"Christian?" Her voice, shaky and tearful, broke the silence that had fallen over the stream. 

He didn't turn around. If he looked at her, he'd forgive her, and she didn't deserve to be forgiven.

"Christian…I…"

"What?? Are you going to ask me to pay for your services? Pay my _whore_?"

He heard Satine suck in a painful breath of air. His words had stung her.

"Christian, let me explain!" She screamed.

He turned around, glaring at her with blind hatred.

"Explain what? Explain how you screwed with my brother? Do you really thing I want to hear that???"

"That's NOT what happened!!" Satine screamed, tears glistening in her eyes.

"Really?? Fine, then enlighten me!!" He said, clenching his fists at his sides. 

"I was waiting in your study for _you_! Richard came in and I froze up. You know why I'm afraid of him! Before I could get my defenses back up, he kissed me. _I pulled away_ but you had already seen! You jumped to conclusions!" She was glaring back at him, but he could still see tears in her eyes.

"Why should I believe you?" He asked slowly, sharply. He turned his gaze back to the stream, refusing to look at Satine. If he did, he'd forgive her.

"Because I LOVE YOU!!!" Satine screamed, the words echoing through the forest.

He turned back around and saw that she wasn't glaring anymore; she was simply crying.

"_Come what may_," She sang softly, her tears flowing quickly.

He closed his eyes, trying to put some order to his thoughts. 

_He was an idiot for jumping to conclusions. He needed to forgive her. He loved her._

"Come what may," He said under his breath.

Satine took a step forward and he sighed, taking the final steps so the two were face to face.

"I love you," Satine whispered, her tears falling on his shirt.

"I love you, too."

She laughed through her tears and he quickly took her lips. 

"I love you," He whispered again when the kiss ended. 

"I'm sorry," Satine said, looking into his eyes. He stared back, loving those blue-green oceans. 

"I called you a…" She cut him off.

"Shh…forget about that."

He nodded and took her hands in his. He pulled the box out of his pocket and looked deeply into her eyes.

"Satine, I love you and…"

"Christian, what is it?" She asked.

"Will you do me the honor of…becoming my wife?"


	15. I'll Miss You Both

Chapter Quatorze

          "Elizabeth…may we come in?" It was well after midnight, so Satine kept her voice low.

          After a moment, Elizabeth answered the door. She was already wearing a white nightgown. When she saw her and Christian holding hands, she smiled.

          "Did you two want something?" Elizabeth asked, yawning.

          "Yes…" She started, feeling a lump rise in her throat. 

          "We…we wanted to say goodbye," Christian said. She heard his voice crack and knew he was fighting back tears. It didn't surprise her. He was leaving a person he held dear…someone he'd probably never see again.

          Elizabeth nodded, "And where are you going?"

          She was shocked by the calmness she heard in Elizabeth's voice/

          "We haven't dec…" Christian started. She cut him off.

          "France. Montmartre, France."

          "Montmartre?" Christian asked, barely hiding his shock.

          She simply nodded.

          "Where will you live? Unmarried couples cannot gain residence in most housing facilities," Elizabeth said, her calm wearing off.

          "That's the second thing we wanted to tell you," Christian said, smiling.

          "We're getting married!" She exclaimed, holding up her hand to reveal the simple, but beautiful ring her lover had given her.

          Elizabeth grinned and enveloped the two in a loving embrace. 

          "Will you write?"

          "Of course," Christian said, tears forming in his eyes.

          When the elder woman released them from the embrace, she walked over to a desk at the far corner of the room. She returned with a large packet.

          "Think of it as…a wedding gift."

          Christian took the packet and tore it open, a gasp rising to his lips. He tipped the envelope so she could see its contents.

          It was full of money.

          Before either of the two could speak, Elizabeth spoke, "Christian, your father will disown you the second he learns of your departure. You'll need money if you are to marry…Ms. Bertram here needs security, don't you, dear?"

          She nodded, laughing through her tears.

          "Have a safe journey. Write soon. I'll miss you both and…I love you both."     


	16. You Want To Go There?

Chapter Quinze

_          With their escape, you believe that it is the end of this tale, do you not?_

_ I laugh. People are so naïve sometimes._

_When Christian and Satine packed their belongings and fled for the train station in the dead of night, they did not go unnoticed. I will not tell you who saw them, for you will find that out soon enough._

_They got to the train station and bought their tickets, boarding only moments before the train left._

_Once on the train, Satine broke down and wept. Her tears seemed to flood the train and, soon, others were shedding tears as well. _

_Christian didn't try to understand the reason for her weeping. He just held her close and prayed that she would be all right. Besides, he knew why she was crying._

_          She had escaped from a hell that had tortured her since she was ten years old. He would be crying, too, if his life were like her's._

_          By the time they arrived in France, Satine had cried her eyes dry. When they got off the train, though, she found more tears forming._

_          She was back…and she wasn't afraid. _

_          There was nothing here that could hurt her anymore. She had Christian… and Richard was back in London, far from her. _

_          After getting their luggage in order, the two headed for a small chapel that Satine had attended mass in while she was growing up. They were married there, the only witnesses being themselves, the priest, and God. _

_          After leaving the chapel, they headed into the city of Montmartre, which is where my narration will end…for now…_

"Are you alright, darling?" He asked when he noticed Satine had stopped moving. He had been too busy taking in the sights, the smells of his new home to notice that his lover…his wife had stopped moving. 

          When Satine lifted her head, he saw tears in her eyes. 

          "What's wrong?" He asked, pulling her into his arms. Satine's tears quickly dampened the shoulder of his shirt.

          "I'm sorry," Satine whispered into his shoulder. He pulled back to look into her eyes.

          "What are you sorry for?"

          "I'm just so…happy…to be home…with you." 

          He smiled and kissed her, not caring that the street was crowded and people were already staring at them. 

          "Come on. Let's go find a place to live."

          "No! I…I want to go in."

          His brow furrowed, "Go in? Go in where?"

          "The Moulin Rouge," She said, pointing to a red windmill that's lights were rivaling the brightness of the stars in the night sky. 

          "You…want to go there?" He asked, shocked.

          "Yes."


	17. Married To A Diamond

Chapter Seize

          It wasn't much different then it had been when she had last been there. The neon lights shone with the same brilliance, maybe even shining brighter. The music hadn't changed. It still poured into your soul and made your heart beat along with the tune. 

          The people were what had changed. She saw no faces that were familiar. Nobody seemed to know her either.

          She didn't know if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

          Christian must have sensed her anxiety because he squeezed her hand. She looked up and saw love shining in his eyes, realizing that it was good no one recognized her. She wanted to see and leave.

          "Do you see anyone you know?" Christian almost screamed, trying to be heard over the music. She laughed and shook her head.

          "Do you want to stay?" He asked.

          She thought for a moment and then shook her head again. Taking his hand, she headed for the door. She had almost reached it when she saw a familiar short form.

          Toulouse.

          She quickened her pace, practically dragging Christian along with him. 

          "Are you training for a marathon?" He asked once they were outside, chuckling. She smiled but didn't answer. Instead, she turned toward a large building with the words "Chambres a la Journee" written across one of the walls.

          "I used to live there," She said, pointing past the windmill that obscured their view of the garrets.

          "Do you think they'll have a garret available?" Christian asked. She smiled.

          "They usually just give the rooms to men who got a bit too drunk at the Moulin. Most of the time, half of the rooms are empty…or at least that's how I remember the place."

          Christian squeezed her hand.

          "Lead the way."

          She giggled and ran towards the building.

          "Ya' two wanna' room?" The landlady asked, waving a large hand in the air. The movement made a large ring of keys on her wrist jingle. 

          "Yes, we want a room…room 214, if possible," He said. He saw Satine smile from the corner of his eye. It had been her room when she had stayed here.

          "214, eh? Well…I believe it's open. How long ya' gonna' stay?"

          "We don't know yet," He said quietly, feeling uncomfortable. The landlady was looking at him a bit strangely and he didn't like it at all.

          "Al'right. Here's ya' key. The room's up the…" Satine cut the woman off.

          "I know where it is."

          Christian was walking quickly up the stairs and she laughed. She could tell the landlady had frightened him. She didn't blame him either. She remembered all too well that Mrs. Leeman had been less the hospitable when she had lived there. 

          Looking around, she saw that the walls had been painted a pale yellow color. It was an improvement; she had always hated the old blue wallpaper.

          "I found the room," She heard Christian call from the top of the stairs. She smiled and ran as quickly as her corset would allow. 

          Sure enough, Christian had found the room where she had once lived. He was struggling with the door, which seemed to be stuck, and she laughed.

          "You have to kick the door to get it opened," She said with a giggle.

          Christian turned and stuck his tongue out at her, before taking her advice and kicking the door. It seemed to surprise him when it opened. 

          She smiled smugly and walked into the garret.

          She was home.

          It took them a few days to settle into the small garret. He didn't mind, though. The cramped space, which most likely would have given his father a heart attack, seemed perfect for him and Satine. It was small and cozy…perfect for the two of them.

          He was typing at his typewriter one morning when there was a knock on the door. Satine was still asleep, so he answered it quickly, not wanting to wake her.

          In opening the door, he was shocked to see a strange group of people. Among them were a short man, a bald man, a Hispanic man and an old man who appeared to be drunk.

          "Um…" was all that he could say.

          The short man pushed his way into the garret and chuckled.

          "How do you do? My name is Henwi Mawie Waymond Toulouse-Lautwec Montfa. We'we youw neighbors, I suppose. We'we wight above you, actually," The man chuckled. It took him a moment to understand him through the short man's lisp.

          Suddenly, he realized what the short man had said, particularly his name.

          "Toulouse? As in the painter, Toulouse?" He said, his voice filled with astonishment.

          Toulouse nodded, "I suppose you could call me a paintew."

          By this time, the noise had woken Satine up. She walked over to him and put her head on his shoulder, "What's going on, darling?" She mumbled groggily. 

          He was about to answer, but his response was silenced by a sudden gasp from Toulouse.

          "S…Satine??"

          Satine's head shot up from his shoulder. He could tell she was wide-awake by the shocked look in her eyes.

          "Toulouse?" She looked up at the other figures in the doorway, "Argent? Satie? Doctor?" She looked like she was on the verge of tears. 

          The four men nodded and he looked at Satine questioningly. She knew these men?

          "I see you have come back, Satine. Awe you wowking at the Moulin Wouge again?" Toulouse asked. She shook her head, tears splashing onto his skin.

          "Oh…this…this is my husband, Christian. Christian James," Satine said. He almost chuckled at the shocked looks on the faces of the four men. 

          "Mawwied? The Spawkling Diamond got mawwied?"

          "Yes…I was married just a few days ago," Satine said. He put his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. 

          "Congratulations!" The man Satine had called Argent said. He smiled.

          "Thank you…so…how is the Moulin Rouge theses days?" Satine asked, squeezing his hand. Toulouse laughed.

          "Well, Zidlew is tuwning the Moulin into a theatew. We have a play and evewything." 

"Well, that's wonderful," Satine exclaimed, jumping up. When she did this, his head went flying from her shoulder. He laughed but Toulouse frowned.

"The pwoblem is, Audwey, the writew, left the show. We have nobody to write."

At the word "write" he looked up.

"You need a writer?" He questioned. Satine turned to him and smiled, knowing where he was headed with the conversation.

"Yes," Toulouse said slowly.

Satine slapped him on the chest.

"Here is your writer, Monsieur!"

_Christian was given the job after meeting with the owner of the Moulin Rouge, a man named Harold Zidler. He showed Harold a story he had written, titled Children Of The Revolution, and he was immediately given the job as the writer. After much persuading, and begging, in Christian's case, Satine agreed to star as the female lead._

_The basic plot of the play was this: a Hindi courtesan and a penniless sitar play fall in love, but need to hide their affections from a jealous maharaja._

_The name of the play: Spectacular, Spectacular._   


	18. Fairy Tale Ending

Chapter Dix-Sept

          They had been in Montmartre for a month, which made it their one-month wedding anniversary. Christian had woken her up early to give her a bottle of champagne and a poem he had written for her. He then left for the bakery, where he would get their breakfast of crescents and jam. 

          She had snuggled under the warm quilt, reciting Christian's poem over and over again in her mind. 

          _"Some days I sit and ponder_

_The way my life has been._

_I wonder if I had chosen different paths,_

_Where would I be and when?_

_I have made many mistakes in my life,_

_But one thing is for sure,_

_I have learned something from every one,_

_And I have become more mature._

_I want to spend my life in your arms;_

_I want to hold you close and tight._

_I want to be your shoulder to lean on,_

_Every day and every night._

_I will love you today, tomorrow and forever._

_I will love you until my last breath._

_I will learn from your tenderness_

_And please never expect anything less._

_Satine, darling, I love you and thank you for making my life worth living. Yours forever, Christian."_

She smiled, almost hearing Christian reciting the words to her. She closed her eyes, wondering how someone as wonderful, as talented, as amazing as Christian could have ever fallen in love with her…and married her? Unable to find an answer, she turned her attention to the window, where she could see the windmill of the Moulin Rouge, turning silently as though an unseen force were pushing its blades, and the elephant that lay beyond. 

          She remembered all too clearly being in that elephant. She sighed and closed her eyes, letting the loving words of her husband surround her like a warm blanket.

          "Close your eyes," She heard a voice say. She smiled, knowing it was Christian. She wondered why she didn't smell the crescents, but didn't bother voicing her question. 

          "Hello, darling," She whispered.

          "Keep your eyes closed…I have a surprise," There was something in Christian's voice that didn't sound right.

          "Christian…" Before she could finish her sentence, his lips slammed down onto hers. He kissed her hungrily, tiny hairs tickling her nose.

          This isn't right, she thought. Christian doesn't have a moustache. 

          She opened her eyes and met a gaze so dark, so cold, that it made her shiver. These eyes did not belong to Christian. They belonged to a person who made her heart turn cold.

          She whimpered, trying to push her way out of bed. Richard had her pinned. 

          "Christian!!" She screamed. Why wasn't he coming to her rescue? Why was he just standing by the door like he was awestruck?

          Richard shifted his arm, giving her a chance to get out of the bed. She ran to Christian, but only made it halfway. She stopped abruptly when she saw the blood.

          _Her husband's shirt was stained dark red._

"Oh my God," She whispered as he collapsed to the floor. She rushed to kneel beside him, his head in her lap. She grabbed his hand. It was like grabbing a mound of ice.

          Richard snickered in the background. 

          She burst into tears as Christian began to cough up blood.

          "Did you really think I'd let you two live happily ever after, like in a fairy tale??" Richard asked with a cruel laugh, "This is my fairy tale ending." He snickered again and aimed a gun at Christian. 

She hadn't even noticed it until that moment.

 With little hesitation, Richard pulled the trigger and the bullet dug right into the heart of her lover.

          She woke up screaming.

A/N- The poem was from a website. Lost the address, but just giving whoever wrote it credit….Heeheeeheee, don't you just hate me for building you up in this chapter and then it turns out to be a dream?? MUAH HA


	19. Tell Me What's Wrong

Chapter Dix-Huit

          He was in Toulouse's apartment when he heard the scream. He had been looking at some of his friend's paintings, but he dropped everything when he heard the desperate shrieks. 

_          He knew it was Satine.    _

          He ran down the staircase as quickly as he could, almost falling at the landing. When he reached the door to his garret, his fears were confirmed. The screaming was, indeed, coming from inside.

          He pushed the door open quickly, its knob slamming into the wall. His eyes widened when he saw that Satine was curled in bed, crying hysterically. She was holding her knees to her chest and her white nightgown was clinging to her skin, from what seemed to be sweat.

          "Darling? What's the matter?"

          She looked up at the sound of his voice, but her sobs only intensified. He rushed to the bed, not bothering to shut the door. He heard the sound of a cane, realizing Toulouse was coming, but nothing was more important then Satine…nothing at all.

          "Darling, tell me what's wrong. I heard screaming," He said softly, touching her arm lightly. She looked into his eyes and he knew she was trying to speak, but her tears were coming too strongly down her cheeks.

 Her sobs intensified again and he pulled her to his chest. She placed her hand on his heart, scratching at the fabric of his shirt.

"What are you doing? What's wrong?"

"No bullet. There's no bullet," She whispered, sighing. He didn't understand. Bullet?

"Satine, tell me what happened," He urged. His wife closed her eyes.

"He shot you. He…you…you collapsed and…I had your head in my lap…and he just shot you. You…died…in my arms. I felt your blood…Christian…" She began to cry again, tears flowing from underneath her closed eyelids.

"Shh…Satine, it was a nightmare. Nobody shot me," He whispered, pulling her against him again. She pulled away.

"No! It wasn't just a nightmare! It was real…so real. He'll find us…and then he'll…he'll…oh God, Christian! He'll kill you!"

His brow furrowed, but he knew whom she was talking about. She had seen _Richard_ kill him. 

"It's alright, darling. Richard will never find us. I'll protect you from him," He said softly, yet assertively.

Satine shook her head, "He'll find us. I know he will…we have to leave."

"Leave? I'm not going to leave, Satine. I'm not afraid of him," He said, standing from the bed to look down at his lover. 

"Christian…he could destroy everything," Satine whispered, her tear-filled eyes meeting his gaze. 

He froze, "You said I _was_ everything." 

He didn't know why he said it but the second he did he regretted it. Saying this had struck a nerve in Satine and fire formed in her eyes.

"YOU ARE!!" She screamed, rising from the bed and standing up in front of him. He wanted to apologize, but, judging by the look in Satine's eyes, it wouldn't have done much good. 

There was a moment of silence before Satine sighed and looked down.

"I'm sorry," She whispered under her breath. He heard her and held back a smile.

"It's all right…I was angry," Was the only thing he could think to say. Satine nodded and turned away. 

They had never fought before, so he didn't know what to do.

"Um…I'm going to write part of the play. Do you want to help me?" He asked, cursing himself for asking such a stupid question.

It didn't surprise him when Satine shook her head, "I think I'll go get the mail. It comes around this time…maybe your mother wrote."

He watched her back as she walked towards the open door. When she reached the doorway, though, he heard her whisper, "I love you."

For some reason, the words surprised him. She had said it millions of times, but it seemed strange for her to say it at _that_ moment. Hadn't they just been arguing? 

He smiled. She said it because she truly loved him. He knew that what he felt towards her couldn't be put into words. It wasn't just love…it was a spiritual connection that he'd never felt before in his life. He had been blessed with an angel.

He walked towards her and put his hands around her waist, "I love you, too…" He took a deep breath, "I'm so sorry." 

Satine squeezed his hand, "It's alright."

They stood there for a moment and he kissed her hair.

She laughed, "Are you going to let me get the mail?" 

He chuckled and shook his head, "No."

She laughed again and turned in his arms. Her eyes looked straight into his and he could see the love flowing through them…love for him. He'd never realized how blessed he was. 

She grinned and brushed her lips against his, "I'll see you in a minute."

He frowned, seeing snow falling from outside his window, "Don't you want your coat?"

Satine shook her head, "I'll be back in five seconds."

His frown deepened and his brow furrowed.

"Christian! I won't catch pneumonia in _five second_!" 

He laughed and she smiled. A moment later, she had closed the door behind her.  


	20. The Thought of Losing Him

Chapter Dix-Neuf

          She hadn't realized how cold it was until she walked into the street. As soon as the door was opened, the snow and wind burst into her face, causing her breath to catch in her throat. 

          She laughed, realizing she should have listened to Christian and taken her coat. 

          "Oh well," She muttered under her breath.

          Fighting the wind, she made her way to the mailboxes that were across the street from the building. After struggling for what seemed like a century, she opened the box and found a single letter inside. 

          It didn't have a return address or, for that matter, an address at all. It simply had her name written across the front. She closed the box, trudging through the four inches of snow to a place sheltered by an overhanging roof. She leaned against the wall and turned the letter over. It had been sealed shut by wax and a crest was embedded into it. The crest seemed familiar, but she couldn't put a name to the family it belonged to. 

          She tore the seal and pulled the letter from the envelope. The paper smelled musty, the aromas of smoke and liquor filling her nose. 

It reminded her of the Moulin Rouge.

Pushing the thought aside, she unfolded the paper. It only had a few lines written on it. She gasped when she read it.

_Run as much as you like, my dear, but I will ALWAYS find you._

She sucked in breath, suddenly feeling as though she would faint if she didn't get oxygen to her lungs. She pushed back tears so she could read the final line.

_The next time we meet, I'm coming to make you mine, and to kill him._

She couldn't think. She couldn't breath. Her mind felt like it had shut down. 

She staggered forward, leaving the shelter the overhang provided. Snow fell onto her hair and clothing.

She didn't feel any of it.

She sank down into the snow, bringing her knees to her chin. She began to cry, but the tears froze on her cheeks.

She couldn't feel the cold that was stinging her cheeks. All she felt was the fear building inside her, making her throat tight, and the pain growing in her heart at the thought of losing Christian. 

A/N- Short chapter. I'll update soon, but for now…I'll be a good author and leave you hanging. MUAH HA…J


	21. In The Snow

Chapter Vingt

          He had been so absorbed in his writing that when the chime of the clock rang it made him jump. He chuckled at himself.

          It didn't surprise him that he had been so engrossed in his play that the world around him had been put on mute. It happened all the time.

          The thing that surprised him was that he didn't see Satine in the garret. It was only one large room, with a bathroom connected to it, but the bathroom door was open and he didn't see her there.

          Standing from his seat by his typewriter, Christian walked over to the ladder in the middle of the room. It led up to a hole that opened into Toulouse's garret. The story connected to the hole was humorous, but he didn't feel like laughing.

          Argent, who Christian had found out suffered from Narcolepsy, had fallen through the ceiling, landing on the floor in his garret. He and Satine had been kissing and the shock of suddenly having a third person in the room made them both jump.

          He climbed up the ladder quickly. He saw Satie asleep at his piano, Argent passed out on the floor, and Toulouse and the Doctor were nowhere to be seen. They were most likely passed out at the Moulin Rouge. 

          Satine, though, was nowhere to be seen.

          He began to panic. She could only be in his garret or Toulouse's. She never went to the Moulin Rouge.

          Then he remembered. She had gone to get the mail.

          But hadn't that been hours ago?

          He took in a deep breath, his mind racing. Every horrible thing imaginable popped into his head and his breathing became harsh, labored.

          "Where are you?" He whispered into the silence of Toulouse's garret. 

          He climbed the ladder back down and he felt his throat tighten. What if Richard…NO! He wouldn't let himself think that. His brother, no matter how horrible and slimy he may be, would never go as far as to abduct his wife.

          His breathing faltered for a second and his face grew hot. He needed fresh air.

          Walking over to the window, he pushed opened the glass and stuck his head outside. A cold breeze hit his face and the smell of snow invaded his nose. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the bone-chilling cold wash over him.

          When he opened his eyes, he saw what he had been looking for. Though he was high up, he saw the glimmer of red hair covered with snow. He sighed…but the relief didn't last.

          Why was Satine sitting in the middle of the road…covered with snow? And why was a very familiar form walking quickly towards her?

A/N-Don't start throwing stones yet, lol. I'll leave u hanging for a bit, but I already know what's happening next. Hope ur enjoying this story. REVIEW!!


	22. Two People, One Bullet

Chapter Vingt Et Un

          He flew down the stairs, tripping and nearly falling flat on his face. He had heard her scream when the figure grabbed her and pulled her up. That was when he had run. His wife, the love of his life, was in trouble and he had to do something…something fast.

          When he opened the door, wind cut trough his shirt and sliced all the way down to his bones.

          He didn't care.

          His wife was in danger and protecting her was worth a bit of cold. 

          He ran through the street, through the icy snow, stumbling down the alleyway where Satine had been dragged. He saw her against the wall and he almost ran to her.

          Almost.

          He saw him standing over Satine, half covered in shadows and that was why he stopped mid-step. 

          "Ah, Christian. I wanted you to be here when I did this," His brother's voice cut through the sound of the alleyway and a chill ran down his spine.

          "Get up!" Richard hollered, pushing Satine harshly with his foot.

          She whimpered and stood, lifting her head.

          He saw blood running down her face and his eyes flashed white with blind hatred. 

          _He_ had hit his wife. 

          Satine ran over to him and he held her tightly against his chest, kissing her head, her cheek, and her eyes. 

Tears were falling and freezing on her cheeks. Her hair was hard with ice.

"Turn your whore around," Richard said, his voice icy, unfeeling. 

Christian turned to him and was about to yell, but he saw the flash of metal, the flash of steel.

A gun.

Satine saw it too. She took in a harsh gasp of air that stung his ears.

"Now, I have one bullet." Richard said, laughing at his own sick humor, "Who to shoot?"

Christian stepped forward, pushing Satine behind him.

"Come on Richard. Shoot me. Pull the goddamn trigger!" He yelled, feeling hatred beyond belief fill his body.

Richard laughed and Satine gasped, pushing her way back to his side.

"Christian…" She whispered.

"SILENCE!" Richard hollered. Satine jumped back.

"Kill me Richard. I'm not afraid of dying."

"Christian, no!" Satine screamed, hitting his shoulder.

"You're a coward Richard. You couldn't shoot me if your life depended on it!"

"STOP IT!" Satine screamed. Her voice was full of such pain that he looked away from his brother, away from the gun, and looked into her eyes. 

Her beautiful, tear-filled eyes.

He had fallen in love with those eyes and he couldn't loose them. That's why, if one of them was going to die, it would be him.

"I'll take a bullet for you if I have to," He whispered into her ear. Her sobs intensified.

"Stand side-by-side! I want to see the looks on your faces when I pull the trigger." Richard was looking at them with a crazed look in his cold, dark eyes. He had lost his mind.

"Shoot me, Richard. Leave my wife alone."

Richard laughed, tipping his head upwards towards the sky. 

When he looked back at them, a smile rose to his lips.

"My wife…" Richard whispered just before he pulled the trigger. 


	23. The Cold, The Dark, The Pain

Chapter Vingt-Deux

          It was moments like these that made him feel the cold, the dark, the pain. When he was left alone in his garret with nothing more then the memory of her blood on his hands, the penetrating cold filled his heart. Her kisses, her caresses, her loving words, all turned to hot, throbbing scars when he was alone.

          Sometimes he would wake up, cold sweat pouring from his forehead. He'd drop his hand to the other side of the bed, only to realize that nobody else was there. 

          This night was one of those times. He sat straight up in his bed, knowing he was alone. He brought a hand to his forehead, knowing sweat was there. 

          He knew why.

          It was four years, to the day, since his brother put metal into the flesh of the woman he loved. He could see the scene so clearly, as if it had been just yesterday.

          The bullet was shot, and then blood began to pour from Satine's flesh. He held her in his arms, sobbing. Somebody called the police and they arrived just as Richard began to load another bullet into the gun. God, he wished he had shot him. He wanted to die!

          He let the tears flow as they had when he held her in his arms, her breathing shallow. He could almost feel her blood seeping into his clothing, his heart, his soul.

          The cold, the dark, the pain…all because of his brother.

          He wanted to write. He wanted to scream. He wanted to rip his hair out and drink Absinthe until he died. He would have, if he hadn't heard the laughter.

          The gentle sound of laughter filled the garret. He couldn't tell if he was laughing or if someone nearby was mocking his pain. 

          Looking up from his hands, he saw the sun was out, its golden rays warming his tear stained face.

          The door opened and a little girl entered. She had black hair that curled gently and covered her eyes that were oceanic and pristine. A smile played on her lips when she saw him.

          "Good morning Papa," She said, her voice cutting through the painful barrier that he had wrapped around himself like a blanket. 

          "Good morning Amelia," He said, pulling himself out of bed.

          He smiled down at his daughter and lifted her onto his shoulders.

          "Why is your face wet Papa?" Amelia asked as she wrapped her arms around her neck.

          "I had a nightmare, sweetheart," He said simply, knowing that Amelia was too young to understand his pain.

          "There are groceries outside, Papa," She said, giggling. The sound, melodic and youthful, made him smile.

          When he got into the hall, he saw her.

          "Hello darling," Satine said, putting her bags down to kiss him. She felt his wet cheek and looked up.

          "Another nightmare?"

          He nodded. Satine kissed him again and told Amelia to go inside. She jumped off his shoulders and closed the door behind her.

          "Your brother didn't kill me, remember?" He could see the pain in her eyes, knowing that his sorrows hurt them both. 

          "I…" He started, knowing that he wouldn't be able to find the words. His mouth closed almost as quickly as it had opened. 

          "He had bad aim, Christian. He shot me in the shoulder. I passed out from shock."

          He nodded, "The nightmares just keep coming, Satine. I feel your blood…I feel like I'm about to loose everything."

          "Christian, I'll always be there. I'm not going to leave…ever. You'll always have me and you'll always have Amelia," She kissed him again, meaning for it to be like a brush of air. Instead, their lips were caught up in passion, in love, and they couldn't break apart.

          "I love you so much Satine," He whispered into her pink lips. She smiled.

          "I love you, too," She replied. Then their lips found each other again and the two fell into a powerful kiss.

          In the kiss, Christian felt something. It wasn't cold. It wasn't dark. It wasn't pain.

          It was love, unconditional and everlasting.

          At that moment, he knew he was going to be ok. 

          Finis   

A/N-Well…that's it. Hope you liked it and, if not, please don't kill me, lol. I loved writing this story!!!! 


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